


your love is sunlight

by EveningStarcatcher



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Takes Care of Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Divinity Kink, Established Relationship, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Healing, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mention of blood, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24470995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher
Summary: “Why wait?” Crowley’s voice was faint, almost a whisper, but lined with the usual forced nonchalance.“What?” Aziraphale froze, brow slightly furrowed.“Just, I don’t have to wait.” Crowley’s cheeks flushed. “Could be all better right now. I mean. I-if you wanted.”“Are you asking me to heal you?” Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with something… divine.GO Prom 2020 💕
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 101
Collections: Promptposal





	your love is sunlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaffeineChic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeineChic/gifts).



> For my wonderful Prom date 💕
> 
> Thanks to our prom committee, [Waywarder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder) and [IsleofSolitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude), or organizing the event 💗
> 
> Title from Sunlight by Hozier

The sun was bright, beating down on Crowley’s back as he worked in the garden behind the cottage. He had started early, hoping to avoid the midday heat, but time had gotten away from him and he was almost done planting the row of gerbera daisies. They were a vibrant red, just a few shades from neon, and Crowley loved them. 

Aziraphale did, too.

Crowley had carefully selected each and every plant that went into the garden, with input from Aziraphale, of course. Some were started from seeds, others were purchased from a nursery, but they had all been given a stern talking to before being transplanted from their little plastic beds into the earth. They knew what would happen if they dared to disappoint.

Crowley wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead with the back of his gardening gloves. The temperature really had risen rapidly since the morning and it was sweltering.

Aziraphale had insisted Crowley not wear his traditional black trousers and shirt to work in the garden. Had gently, shyly, placed a loose red shift dress into Crowley’s hands and sent him off to get changed, but not before a quick kiss on his cheek and a whisper of three sweet words.

Crowley was entirely grateful. Black would have been far too hot. 

The dress was soft and comfortable, light, yet durable. Short-sleeved and falling just above the knee, movements were easy and free.

His hair was long, just past the shoulders, and currently pulled into a messy bun on top of his head, a few wisps tickling at cheeks and temples. He liked this look for working in the garden. Just felt right. Mother Earth and all that.

He could feel the prickle of eyes on him and glanced up to the window that overlooked the garden from the kitchen. Aziraphale beamed and Crowley’s heart fluttered.

He smiled back.

He hoped that flutter would happen every time Aziraphale smiled at him for the rest of eternity.

He was almost positive it would. 

Crowley grabbed the last of the plants and settled it into the earth, taking care not to crush any of the delicate petals in the process.

He heard the screen door creak open and the soft padding of footsteps across the grass.

“Isn’t it time to come in, dear?” Aziraphale’s voice was melodic. A soaring note of love, a depth of concern. The tune rang clear and full in Crowley’s heart.

“Almost, angel. Just finishing up.” Crowley glanced up over his shoulder and gasped. He pushed himself back onto his heels, perhaps a bit too hard. There was a soft  _ crunch _ and Crowley yelped, falling onto his side.

“My dear! What happened!” 

“Shit! Did something to my ankle! Felt it pop.” He inspected it and found red, tender skin, and a fair amount of blood running down to the grass below. “Blood. Great. How the  _ fuck _ did I also manage to stab myself with the gardening shears?” He ripped off his gloves and poked at his ankle.

“Oh, Crowley!” Without a second thought Aziraphale leaned down and scooped the demon up into his arms. Crowley felt weightless. 

“Ngk!” He was now nose to nose with his angel. Pale blue eyes electrified with apprehension. 

“What have I told you about leaving them on the ground where you can’t see them?” Aziraphale chuckled and began to walk slowly toward the house, cradling Crowley carefully, so as not to jostle him. “Always causing trouble.”

“Can’t blame me, really. S’all your fault,” Crowley laid his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder and tried to calm his racing heart.

Sometimes he forgot how strong Aziraphale was. The warrior that hid under the waistcoat and the cozy softness.

But there was no waistcoat today.

“Practically naked you are.” Crowley teased, a finger tracing lazily over the exposed line of the angel’s neck. “A t-shirt? Shorts? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show so much skin.”

The t-shirt was light blue, made of a comfortable cotton. It hugged the soft curve of his stomach, the broad line of his shoulders, left his arms available for ogling. Khaki shorts revealed shapely calves dusted with fine blonde hair. Dimpled toes were exposed around the strap of a pair of flip flops. Honest to goodness flip flops. 

The angel. 

In flip flops.

They  _ flipped _ and  _ flopped  _ across the lawn and into the cottage.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale chuckled. “You certainly have seen me show much more skin than this.” 

“Fine, I haven’t seen you show this much skin outside the bedroom.” Crowley rolled his eyes.

“I’m glad to hear that last night was so forgettable, my dear,” Aziraphale scolded playfully.

“Wha- angel!” Crowley sighed. “I’m counting it all as the bedroom.”

“The kitchen is certainly not the bedroom, my dear. Nor is the den, when was that? Last week sometime. And there was that lovely night in the library…”

“Alright, alright.” Crowley groaned as Aziraphale set him down on the bed, settling a pillow beneath the injured ankle. 

“Now, let me see what you’ve done.” 

Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed and gently turned Crowley’s ankle, observing the damage. Crowley hissed softly.

“Minimal damage. It should be healed in a couple of days.” Aziraphale leaned down and placed a kiss to Crowley’s shin and ignored the shiver that moved up the demon’s spine.

“Why wait?”

Crowley’s voice was faint, almost a whisper, but lined with the usual forced nonchalance.

“What?” Aziraphale froze, brow slightly furrowed.

“Just, I don’t have to wait.” Crowley’s cheeks flushed. “Could be all better right now. I mean. I-if you wanted.”

“Are you asking me to heal you?” Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with something… divine.

“Y-you could.” Crowley stared. Cheeks were burning red, heat was coursing through his veins. 

“But, it’s holy.” Aziraphale’s hands wrung.

“You said it’s not too bad. Won’t take much to fix it.” Crowley shrugged and smirked, but it lacked conviction. “Don’t have to. I can wait it out. I’ll be awfully annoying, though. Bad patient and all…”

“Do you  _ want _ me to heal you?” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, but firm.

Crowley’s voice caught in his throat. He nodded slowly, entranced by the spark in Aziraphale’s eyes. The lightning that forked and fizzled, the guardian, the protector.

“Okay.” The angel settled once again on the edge of the bed, his hands hovering over Crowley’s ankle. “Stop me if it’s too much.”

“I will. But it won’t be.” Crowley nodded, smiled to reassure his angel. 

He wished he had the words to explain. To explain why he wanted this. How much he wanted this. How much he  _ needed _ this.

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment, rolled his shoulders back, took a deep breath.

There was a glow. A spark of heat and power emanating from those perfectly manicured hands. It sent tingles of electricity zipping through Crowley. He tensed and Aziraphale stopped.

“Alright?”

“Alright.”

Aziraphale’s eyes swept over Crowley as he worked, searching for any sign of discomfort. 

Crowley laid his head back against the pillow, pulling at the elastic until his hair fell free, spilling out in curling flames. His eyes fluttered closed, losing himself to the buzzing sensation, the spread of warm liquid humming through his veins, a trembling in his core fueled by the sharp sting of pain from the mixing of the divine and occult, and the delicious afterburn of pleasure.

A long, low moan rumbled in his throat and escaped his slightly parted lips.

The room stilled.

“Shit, sorry!” Crowley pushed himself up, burning with embarrassment.

Aziraphale’s cheeks were pink and his eyes wandered, slowly leaving Crowley’s face, tracing over his body. 

Crowley wished he was wearing more. Long sleeves. Sunglasses. A barrier. A wall behind which to hide his flushed skin, his sharpness, his want.

“You seem to be...enjoying this.” Aziraphale whispered.

“I’m sorry, angel. It just feels… nevermind. Sorry.” Crowley flopped back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his face.

“I thought it would hurt.” The angel’s voice was quiet, contemplative.

“Does.”

“But…”   
“Yes, I like it!” Crowley exploded. He felt coiled too tight, ready to spring. Force himself open and see what would break. “The whole angel powers thing. It hurts, but it feels good, okay? Really good.” 

“Good how?” One of Aziraphale’s hands had settled onto Crowley’s shin and the heat from it was intoxicating, maddening.

“You know how, angel!” 

“Oh, I see.” Aziraphale’s features were calm, but his eyes flashed again. “Do you mean to tell me that my angelic energy is  _ arousing _ ?”

His fingers slowly, lightly, trailed up Crowley’s calf, to his thigh, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh. 

Crowley tried not to shiver, but it couldn’t be helped.

“It would seem so.” Aziraphale’s fingers danced along the hem of Crowley’s dress. “You know, I knew this would look lovely on you, but I didn’t realize it would make you look both exquisitely beautiful  _ and _ positively sinful.”   
“Angel,” Crowley panted, his golden eyes staring down at the perfectly manicured fingers as they slipped underneath the fabric.

“I saw it and just had to get it for you. Couldn’t resist really. More a gift for me, I think. Is that selfish?”

“N-no!” Crowley keened as he felt the whisper of a touch along his sensitive skin. He needed more.

“I would hate to think that I was being selfish.” Aziraphale’s hand withdrew and was replaced with the weight of the angel’s body against his, sliding up - almost slithering - bunching up the fabric of the dress as he went. “Perhaps I could give you something you want. Anything you ask for. What do you want me to give you?”

Aziraphale’s face was hovering just a few inches above Crowley’s.

“You.” Crowley’s voice was steady, sure. “ _ All _ of you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes softened. Lightning subsided to reveal a calm sea. “And that includes-”

“Yes,” Crowley nodded rapidly.

“And if it’s too much you need only say-”

“Crepes, yeah.” 

Aziraphale lowered himself onto Crowley, an anchor, as he kissed him. It was slow, but electrifying. Crowley was sure there were sparks wherever Aziraphale’s skin touched his, small bursts of light where their lips pressed together, an invisible flame emanating from the angel’s core that seeped into every cell of Crowley’s body.

It stung and it ached. It was too much and not enough. It was perfect.

“ _ Angel _ ,” Crowley breathed as Aziraphale left a line of kisses down his jawline and throat. His heart was beating wildly against the cage of ribs. He longed to tear himself open, to be completely at the angel’s mercy, let Aziraphale decide what to do with the erratic muscle racing inside. He could remove Crowley’s heart, take it for himself, do with it what he will. Crowley wouldn’t mind. Or he could crawl inside, choose to be kept safe within the confines of Crowley’s skin, constantly with him.

Oh, how Crowley  _ wanted _ . How he  _ needed _ . How he longed to take and take and take until he was no longer empty. Until he was content. Until he was deserving.

But wasn’t he?

Aziraphale never wasted time on anything that wasn’t perfect, rare, exquisite. Meals at the Ritz, immaculate first editions, deep red wines, and Crowley. That’s what he surrounded himself with. That’s what he deemed worthwhile. Important. Loved.

Aziraphale loved everything with the basic angelic kind of love, but he loved certain things with a deeper love. He loved Crowley with the deepest love of all.

And Crowley could feel it now.

He could always feel it, like the gentle lapping of a wave on the shore, but now it felt like the whole ocean crashing down on him. He was drowning in it, tossed about in its current, pulled by the tide. He clutched at Aziraphale’s shirt, his arms, his hair, anything and everything to steady him, to keep him from being washed away.

He opened his mouth and the sounds came out as a moan as Aziraphale’s teeth pressed into the skin of his shoulder.

“What was that, dear?” The angel pulled back, observing.

“More.”

“More what?”

“More. You. Angel.” Crowley tangled his long fingers through a halo of curls and crushed their lips together. “Trust you. Won’t hurt me.” He laid each word against Aziraphale’s lips, like laying a sacrifice at the altar. He would give all of himself over and over. Would saunter into a thousand churches, would drive through hellfire, would face Satan himself again and again and again if it would please his angel. If it would make him smile in that way that glittered. Make him look at Crowley with fondness. Make his eyes sparkle. Make his halo peek into existence, casting a divine glow around him.

His halo.

Crowley opened his eyes as something shifted. Aziraphale was glowing now, his halo blazing bright around his head, his eyes pools of water reflecting the mid-day sun.

The subtle sting grew and Crowley’s back arched, a long, wailing moan releasing from his throat. He pressed against Aziraphale, craving more more more…

Aziraphale glowed brighter and brighter, his wings unfurling in heavenly splendor. 

Crowley wrapped himself around the angel and found only skin. They were no longer separated by fabric. The room smelled of petrichor and ozone. 

“Love you!” Crowley moaned, head thrown back in agonizing ecstasy.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you entirely.” Aziraphale’s angelic voice surrounded him, echoed inside his head, vibrated in every cell. 

This was  _ truth _ . Azirphale’s truth. Crowley felt it like air in his lungs, 

“So gorgeous. So good for me. My incredible love. My darling. My everything!”   
Crowley’s body tensed. He clutched at Aziraphale, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as he released, crying out his angel’s name in a mangled scream of pleasure.

Aziraphale burned white and bellowed in heavenly tongues. The light was wild, yet soothing. It pulsed and shivered as he came undone.

Crowley’s eyes were squeezed shut against the divine glow, but peeled out as it slowly ebbed and faded until all that was left was Aziraphale, laid across Crowley’s body, heavy and warm and perfect.

Crowley’s squeezed him tight with all the strength he had left. Their chests heaved together. Fingers tangled in hair and traced absent patterns along bare skin.

Aziraphale lifted his head, his eyes finding Crowley’s in an unspoken question. Crowley answered with a kiss to his forehead. Aziraphale sighed in relief and contentment. 

“What would you say to a bath, dear one?” Aziraphale asked.

“Mmm,” Crowley hummed, giving a small wiggle to demonstrate his comfort with the current arrangement. No need to mess with perfection.

“Oh, my darling. I assure you, we’ll be quite comfortable there as well.” Aziraphale chuckled and it rumbled through his chest and Crowley’s. He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s lips and then slipped off the bed. Crowley’s whine turned into a gasp when he found himself, once again, in the angel’s arms. His arms slipped around Aziraphale’s neck and he peppered kisses to the angel’s neck and cheek. 

“Silly serpent,” Aziraphale smiled as he set Crowley down on the bathmat. He turned on the water and opened a bottle that filled the room with the scent of lilac and lavender. 

When the bath was ready, Crowley was lifted once again, and cradled against Aziraphale’s chest as they settled into the bath.

“Should wear that dress more.” Crowley’s lips murmured against warm skin.

“I hope you do,” Aziraphale said with a kiss to Crowley’s forehead, “but it’s not just that dress. You make everything you wear so extremely tempting.”

“S’what I do. Tempt.”

“I know, darling. And you do it so very, very well.”


End file.
